


Imaginary Friend

by Believe_in_the_Journey (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, angel france, except he is not crazy, fluff to make it up to you guys, like so much fluff, mental england, push through the angst itll get better I swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:27:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Believe_in_the_Journey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Kirkland can see things. But because no one else can see what he does, his mother and step-father put him in a mental hospital. The pills are making him actual insane, won't someone celestial save him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cascade

**Author's Note:**

> Dreams are in italics.

Apparently, seventeen-year-old boys should not have imaginary friends. Especially if they are his **only** friends. Arthur believed that the doctors should leave him alone. They **were** real, even if some had stopped visiting. But because everyone was so damn nosy, Arthur's doctors had insisted his mother, father (who had left years ago and did not even care and certainly had no **right** ), and current step-father sign him up for the next available slot in the closest loony bin before he affected his half-brothers, Alfred and Matthew, with his state of mind.

Arthur despised the mental hospital. After four weeks of "Take them; they will make you better", "Freak, no wonder your parents locked you in here", and "Swallow more pills and stop being such a pansy", he felt he was crazier then when he got there in the first place. He obviously was not the only one. He heard the nurses in the hall with their too loud whispers of how he was getting worse. Patients were not supposed to be checked in with seeing things and small nightmares, **then** be recorded for hallucinations, imaginary friends, seizures, paranoia, night terrors, and depression.

The blonde English boy could not bring himself to care at all about his worsening mentality; he was too drained from the constant nightmares and Mint Bunny growing fangs and trying to kill him. Most of his nightmares featured Francis Bonnefoy, a French angel with mesmerizing blue eyes and well-groomed golden curls he always had pulled back with a navy blue ribbon. The most amazing thing about him was his widespread wings covered in feathers the dark blue of the night sky. However, he was a nuisance with his constant flirting, lack of personal space, and over-all perverted manner. Despite that, Arthur resented that Francis had not appeared in four years.

 

A nurse came in with another dose of the blue pills that were slowly growing in size with his failing mentality. Arthur was too depressed these days to summon the anger to refuse the pills and with slow, laconic movements, downed them with the offered bottle of water.  Then he was finally allowed to sleep. He shut his eyes and was instantly pulled into the dark realms of unconsciousness.

 

_"Come on, mon ami. Just follow me, we will have such fun." Francis purred in Arthur's ear, his hand slipping under the thin material of the English boy's dress shirt._ _"F-frog, get off of me!"  Arthur demanded angrily, pushing him away._ _The blue-eyed man chuckled, his night-like wings unfurling and suddenly he looked terrifyingly demonic. The lovely blue irises glowed ruby red, his face paling, and blonde hair smoking. "I never liked you, Kirkland." he hissed maliciously. "You are crazy, a madman. I wouldn't be caught dead with you. Freak."_

_Then, with a dark glower, Francis was gone._

 

Arthur awoke with a start, his muscles already beginning to tremble. That had been nothing like how Francis left... but his memories of the event faded and suddenly he recalled that the dream was spot-on. His breaths grew shaky and much too slow, or maybe too fast. He was not sure, and it did not matter. His closest friend was a demon that wanted to kill him and Francis was a dark, horrible person that had played him like a game of football. His throat closed up with horror. He heard screaming and wondered vaguely who's it was before his trembling became too much and he fell off the bed. Doctors were in his room, wait no, demons were there. He struggled from their grips and sprinted down the hall. He collided several times with something metal before he found himself on the rooftop. He was alone for once in an amount of time he could not remember. He closed his eyes and spread his arms, feeling the wind whip around him, embracing him. He could escape here. He could let go and just... free-fall into safety. No one could hurt him then. Taking a step forward, he felt the wind pick up as gravity pulled him down for a terminal and everlasting hug. He collided hard with something soft.

Warm, strong arms wrapped around him. Arthur pressed his face into his savior's chest, allowing the person to carry him away. What did he care? Any place was better than that hell. A gentle, silky voice spoke something in a language he did not know, but comforted him all the same. After an eternity of flight and weightlessness, the arms set him down on a comfortable mattress. Terror filled him. He did not want to be left alone to his dreams. Wordlessly, he reached his hand out and tightly clutched the fabric his fingers found. A light laugh echoed quietly with its familiarity as the bed dipped down next to him. The arms slid back around him and held him close as Arthur fell back asleep.


	2. Fly Me Away

Arthur woke up in a state of confusion as he did not recognize his surroundings. He remembered being saved in a dream from a painful escape, but he was not sure why he was laying in the most comfortable bed in the universe, a wing sheltering him from the rest of the room. He pressed against the plumage and hollow bones that made up the gigantic wing gently, causing it to lift away. After an unsuccessful attempt to sit up, the English boy with the dark (now glazed over with depression and a certain pain that comes from being discarded by one's family and deemed mad by everyone) green eyes realized he was being hugged closely around the waist by the pair of comforting arms from his dreams.

The pair of arms that made him feel so safe tightened their hold as if terrified he would disappear. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of that panicked feeling. "Where are you trying to go, mon cher?" a soft, groggy voice asked him.

"F-Francis?" Arthur asked in shock, immediately pushing the angel away from him.

"No more rooftops. I cannot keep saving you, you know." Francis said, stretching. It was then Arthur noticed the angel was incredibly attractive under his shirt. "Like what you see?" Francis purred teasingly.

Arthur ignored his advances and decided to push past the fog in his brain to ask the question that had bothered him for awhile. "Why did you leave?"

"I did no such thing! I am right here, I stayed here all night, mon cher." Francis said indignantly.

Arthur glared daggers. "You know exactly what I mean, you bloody frog."

Francis held up his hands. "Désolé. However, **I** never left. You simply stopped believing. You are very lucky that your medicine reminded you of me or you would have died last night." Francis eyes turned dark with grief momentarily.

"I always believed in you." Arthur snapped. "You are a pain in the arse, it is kind of hard to not believe in you."

Francis chuckled. "I am afraid that although you remembered, you discarded me as a dream at some point. Whether it was subconsciously or not. But I was always there."

"Why did you save me?" Arthur demanded, not wanting to argue the other point anymore. "I wanted-"

"I don't believe that. The medicines they gave you messed up your head. The Arthur I know would never throw himself from a building." Francis said, his blue eyes turning dark again.

Mint Bunny had found him again. Arthur's breathing turned ragged and shallow. 'Go away, please.' he pleaded silently, his body trembling. The mint green, once adorable woodland, bunny had turned into a nightmarish zombie-like creature. His mouth foamed and his fangs were bared. His beady eyes were empty sockets and his fur hung in folds off his body. Arthur cowered in terror, unable to run. Suddenly his vision was blocked by a pair of night blue wings wrapping around him. Francis held him close until he regained control over his mind. Sweet nonsense was murmured into his ear and Francis peppered kissed on his forehead.

When the sick boy had stopped shaking, Francis unfurled his wings slowly, but did not release him. "Are you alright, mon petit chaton?"

Arthur nodded slowly, pressing his face against the French angel's chest.

One of the arms pulled off of the green-eyed boy's waist and Francis' fingers gently pushed Arthur's face up, forcing him to look at him. "You are safe here, I promise. No one can hurt you here."

"And what about you?" Arthur demanded.

"Moi?" Francis asked, startled.

"You hurt me once." Arthur said, not meeting his eyes.

"I do not recall ever hurting you, but I am incredibly sorry for that. You can trust me." Francis told him sincerely, before kissing him softly. 

Arthur kissed him back instantly, wrapping his thin arms loosely around the angel's neck. Or at least he tried to. The wings kind of got in the way. Francis pulled away with a chuckle, and guided the boy's hands around his neck properly, leaning back into the kiss. Joy lit up inside of Arthur's chest, warming him up as much as Francis' embrace did. It felt weird, not fighting with him. They always fought. Arthur kind of liked the feeling of just being too tired for fighting and teasing. He liked the feeling of Francis just there, and not being a gloating, perverted, prick.

"You know, I think your little brother has it right with the hero thing. I like it." Francis smirked, whispering the words softly. 

And there it was. "What makes you think you're any kind of hero?" Arthur demanded.

"I saved you didn't I, mon cher?" Francis grinned with a laugh.

"Shut up, frog." Arthur said, shaking his head and pushing him away.

Francis grabbed his wrist, pulling Arthur off the bed with him. "Why don't you make me?" Francis said, eyes widening with as much false innocence as he could manage. Arthur kissed him again, not needing to be asked twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mon ami- my friend  
> mon cher- my dear  
> Désolé- Sorry  
> mon petit chaton- my little kitten


	3. Stay

Arthur was not sure how long he had been there. It could have been weeks or only an hour. There was no sense of time in the safety of Francis' home. But it being there in the angel's home begged the question, "Did I die?" 

"What?" Francis asked, looking up from a picture he was admiring. 

"You are an angel. Did you take me with you because I died?" Arthur asked again. 

"No, mon cher. I caught you as you fell. You are still alive. Why? Would you like to return home? I can make some arrangements if you are ready to leave....?" Francis said, seemingly perfectly fine with taking Arthur back home, but Arthur could see the light leave his eyes as he spoke. 

"No, no. I was just wondering. So I am really here? This is not a dream or anything? I am not going to wake back up in that horrible mental hospital?" Arthur confirmed. 

Francis shrugged. "If this is a dream, how would I know? But I feel real so, I would say pretty confidently that this is not a dream."

Arthur nodded and went back to his original task.

"What are you doing in there?" Francis asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Making dinner. I was hungry and I thought-" Arthur began.

"Non! Non, non. Don't do that. I have seen you with cooking. You will not wreck my beautiful kitchen. Get out." Francis said, pulling him out of the room. "Stay right here."

Arthur sat with his arms crossed and glared as Francis saved the meal from Arthur's mistakes. When the food was set out, Arthur attacked the food on his plate savagely as if it had done him a personal wrong. He refused to look at Francis the rest of the time they ate and ignored any attempts at conversation Francis made. "Well, if you're going to sulk about my opinion on your cooking, you might as well get it out of your system right now, because that meal was pretty good considering you started it and I want your opinion." Francis said finally as he washed the dishes.

"Hm, then we're even. Because I hated it." Arthur said smugly. 

Francis spun around, a dripping sponge clenched in one of the fists perched on his hips. "What?" 

"It was disgusting, just like all French food." Arthur said with a smirk.

"That is a lie, take it back!" Francis said, his eyes going wide.

"It is the truth, and if you're going to sulk, well, that's too bad." Arthur said, very proud of himself now.

Francis' lip wobbled and his eyes watered. "You really did not like it?" 

"Are you really going to cry?" Arthur demanded, guilt flooding him in crashing waves. 

Francis turned back around, but the long blue wings could not disguise him melting into tears. Arthur grabbed the angel's wrist and forced him to face him. "I'm sorry, please stop crying. I didn't mean it."

Francis looked down at him with a sniffle. "I knew that, I was just faking to get you to admit it."

Arthur knew it was a lie but pulled away anyway. "Stupid frog." 

Francis looped his arms around his waist from behind him and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. "So you really liked it, mon cher?"

"You can't prove a thing." Arthur said stubbornly. 

Francis chuckled and kissed his neck. "Can so." 

"Do it." Arthur said, thick eyebrows raised.

"I don't want to. I know the truth." Francis said, his breath fanning across Arthur's neck, causing the blonde to shudder. 

"Sure you do, frog." Arthur said, turning around and kissing him hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you liked this! Please leave a comment, thanks


End file.
